The Missing Links
by Void.Of.Memory
Summary: Holmes and Watson are asked to find missing cuff links. But what else their client hiding? No slash. Written to match Conan Doyle's style. A second chapter has been added with many edits!
1. First edit

**Good day to the merry readers of Fanfiction! This is a story I had to write for English, so if you have any corrections, or things you wanna add, just toss it in a review! It would be much appreciated. These characters, by the way, belong to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. They're not mine. **

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><p>It was a few days after Christmas, a day when Holmes and I were relaxing before the inevitable rush of business that would come in the next couple days, when Mr. Jonathan Lavins came to our chambers at 221B Baker Street. It was a frozen, blustery day, when the crowds dared not to venture out into the street of London. The snow floated down from the heavy clouds that covered our view of the sun, and it was the sort of snow that would merely sit upon your jacket and hat until you returned indoors, to which it would immediately melt, soaking everything from your boots to your hair. So was the day that Holmes hadn't changed out of his dressing gown, though it was about lunch, and the two of us sat in our chairs, smoking and reading the Times. There had been neither a word nor a sound, baring the usual ruffles of a turning page or a cough, from either of us for some time, when Holmes suddenly broke free from the mold we had been imprisoned in by speaking.<p>

"Watson, would you mind getting the door?" He asked.

I looked up from my paper in surprise. "Why Holmes," I declared, "I had thought it was your intentions to remain in your chair the whole day."

"It was Watson." He sighed, "But someone had disrupted those plans. And they seem quite desperate. I'd loath to turn him away."

I threw a glance out the window and saw that Holmes had been saying was true. A man was waiting outside our door; his black hair covered in snow, so much so that it appeared that his hair was silver, and shivering in the brisk breeze that swept thought the streets.

I exited our rooms and descended the stairs to the front entrance. Mrs. Hudson had come down with a rather persistent cold, and though she did still cook for us, I had insisted that she rest as much as possible, which meant that Holmes and I were left to our own devices for things like opening the door.

Upon releasing the bolt on the door, the man all but collapsed into the apartments, ice-covered as he was.

"Sir!" I cried, catching him. His lips were nearing blue and he had nothing to cover his hands, of which the tips of the fingers, like his ears, were white. Mild frostbite was sure to have set in, and though not all of the effects were reversible at this point, if I got him up to the fire, he would be able to keep his effected bits. Holmes, who had heard my shouts, came rushing down to my level and helped me maneuver the poor fellow to our rooms. He was promptly placed in the chair close to the fire, and a blanket was provided. Mrs. Hudson, who had also heard the commotion, broke her duties to her health and came to see what was the matter. She gasped when she saw the man and rushed to the kitchen to make some tea.

"Are you alright my good fellow?" I asked, once the fuss had calmed. Though the man was still shivering, the fire and blanket were undoubtedly helping, and by the time his tea was ready, he would have recovered fully.

'Yes, yes." He insisted in a light, nervous voice. "I thank you for this warmth. I do not know how much farther I really could have gone."

"That was to be my next question!" I cried. "How could you have left your house without dressing properly for the cold?"

"He had to leave before his wife returned." Holmes interjected. The detective had gone back to his chair and reading after helping me. "She didn't want him out of the house."

The man stopped shivering momentarily to gape at my companion. "That's correct sir. I am to suppose then, that you are Sherlock Holmes, the consulting detective?"

"You suppose correctly." Holmes nodded from behind his paper.

"But how did you know that my wife didn't want me out of the house?" Was his query.

"I will tell you as soon as Mrs. Hudson delivers your tea." The detective paused, and a knock on the door filled the momentary silence.

"Tea, for the guest Sir." Mrs. Hudson said as she entered our rooms. "Will there be anything else?"

"No, that will be all." I thanked. "Now, please, go back and rest."

Our landlady nodded and left. I heard her coughs as she descended the stairs.

"Now, please Mr. Holmes." Our guest begged. "Tell me how you knew." He had taken out his pocket watch and was examining the hour. "I have little time left…"

"…Before your wife returns from work, yes I understand." Finished my roommate.

That set off another pause in which the man was staring silently at the consulting detective. His tea was steaming, untouched in his hand, the moisture of the steam condensing on his wire-frame glasses. The pocket watch was forgotten, dangling from his long, crooked fingers. The snow in his hair had melted, turning the dark brown hair that flopped across his fore head, turning it a shade darker, and the melted water dripped of the end of his nose. All in all, he looked the part of a street beggar, albeit a well dressed one. It would have been a witty scene to be watching, if only I hadn't been so stupefied myself.

There were times that the reactions of the citizens that came for the help of the detective were quite comical, but those times were only when I myself could, using the methods Holmes always applied, figure out how Holmes had deduced what he had. This was not one of those times, and I too was left with a similar reaction. The detective's head was still buried deep in his copy of _The Times, _and hadn't moved, nor looked up, since the fellow had been carried in.

"Your name is Jonathan Lavins. It says so on the collar of your coat, which I noticed as I was helping the doctor here carry you. I also noticed, in that instant, that you are married, not so long ago, to a charming young woman named Katherine." Holmes set about folding up his paper, continuing to speak calmly, as if these facts were written clearly across the man's forehead. "Her name is written on the inner part of the wedding ring on your left finger. The ring is not at all scratched, which allows me to deduce that the marriage was recently sealed. She works for a watchmaker, her father, which is how you got the one in your hand. It was a wedding gift, from her brother. I saw the inscription in the reflection of your glasses when you look at your watch." Holmes stopped as he put the dailies, properly folded back on the table. "Anything else?"

"I think not." Lavins sputtered. "How on earth did you notice such minuet details so quickly?"

The detective shrugged his slight shoulders and clasped his hands together. "It is my business to know what others do not. How else would I find such details if I were to not notice them?"

"Yes, yes," Lavins mumbled shakily, "Of course. How silly of me." He wasn't the first to frightened by Holmes' abilities. Some when so far as to call him a 'Devil worshiper', and that he had 'made a pact with Satan.' Those were all ridiculous notions, of course, but Holmes didn't put his foot down for the rumors to be stopped.

"Now, are you going to tell me the rest of your story?" Holmes inquired coldly. The detective was more than happy to exhibit his skills, but not without a purpose. The tall, thin man stood and, hands clasped behind his back, looked out the window. "I'm afraid that the exact nature of your problems is beyond even what I can deduce."

The sudden cold manner of which he was suddenly being treated shocked Lavins slightly, and the man sat up straighter in his chair and began his narrative.

"Yes, you gave some basics of my life. My wife's name is indeed Katherine, and we were married some three months ago. The engagement wasn't long, though it was her who wanted to be married. She also insisted that the dowry wasn't a large sum of money, nor an expensive house. But, I need not bore you with-"

"What did she want then Mr. Lavins?" Holmes interrupted briskly.

Our guest frowned at the detective's back. The poor fellow seemed to be at the end of his patience. I must admit, I would have been too; Holmes certainly was getting down to his work with this chap.

"She wanted the old workshop that belonged to my grandfather. He was a blacksmith before he died. It had fallen to a rather sad state from lack of use, for my father was-"

"He was a train conductor, and you are a locksmith, yes." Holmes interjected. "Please continue."

Lavins gave a thin, exasperated smile. "Very well. Now where was I? Oh yes." He cleared his throat and sipped some of his tea, his intent no doubt, to antagonize the detective. I coughed lightly, and shook my head when the locksmith looked my way. He sighed, and persisted with his story.

"My wife works as a governess with a local family, and at the end of November, she had asked me if I wouldn't mind her going on a trip to the country home with the family of the boy she looks after. She and the family are rather close, so I readily agreed. She was gone for a fore night with the family."

"Where is this home?" Holmes asked sharply.

The man shook his head. "I was never informed as to its exact location, but I know that it's very close to a North Rail station. I do believe it's neighbouring Lord Daniel Morrson's country home though, as I had gotten letters from Kate while she was gone and one of them spoke of Lady Morrson and her sons."

"Thank you." Holmes murmured. He had started to pace in the room behind my chair, a sure sign that were was more to this mystery then it might first have appeared.

"Well, when she returned, her mannerisms had changed. Before the trip, and for the entire time I had known her, she had possessed a very calm temperament, and would rarely raise her voice." The affection for his wife was clear as day in the fellow's words. "But after this little trip, she started to be very short with everyone. You couldn't make a single comment without fear of her retaliation. And she detested when I brought home a friend from work without informing her first, or when someone went into her study. She even fired one of the maids for trying to unlock the door of the study to clean the place! This little trip will cost me dearly if she returns home before I do."

The locksmith had gotten very animated with his descriptions of the goings-on, punctuating all of his point with a sweeping arm gesture. I admit I was enamored with his style of speaking; if he ever needed to give up his profession as a locksmith, he most definitively could make his living off telling stories. Enthralled as I was- leaning forward on my chair and hanging off the fellow's every word- I hadn't noticed that Holmes had stopped pacing and was glaring at the story-teller.

"Sir," He spoke slowly and heatedly, "I do not know what you've been told, but I can assure you I am not here to alleviate your marriage problems."

Lavins quickly threw up his hands defensively and shook his head. "Oh no! That's not why I've come! You see, on Christmas, Kate gave me a rather nice pair of cuff links. They appeared to be most expensive- they had a sapphire and emerald in them each, and made out of pure silver. But as I was opening the gift, Kate had the most queer reaction." At this, Holmes snapped his attention to the man, and locked his intensive detective's regard on the locksmith. "She blanched whiter then I had ever seen anyone and nearly fainted. I had her retire to bed for I was most sure that she was coming down with the horrible flu that is going around- the same one your landlady has, I should think. Her queerness started up again as well the day after; she simply refused to let the fire in the den be put out, and had become suspicious again. The following day, Kate and I were going to go out to a friend's place for the evening, and I planned on wearing the cuff links that Kate gave me. But they-"

"-Were gone." Holmes finished grimly.

"Yes!" Lavins cried. "If Kate were to find out, she would be heartbroken; I cannot imagine how long she must have been saving her money for to buy me those!"

Holmes turned around to face his drawer of Persons of Interest. He flipped through some papers for a few moments, muttering to himself. Finally, he pulled a single newspaper clipping out. "There it is!" He murmured, turning back to his client. "Now, Mr. Lavins, does these here resemble the ones Kate gave you?"

Lavins and I both leaned closer to the old worn paper. There were no colors, but the differences between the two stones were clear. It was a picture of a pair of cuff links under the heading of 'Famous French Prince's Cuff Links Auctioned Off For Charity'. The clipping was dated for mid-August.

'Yes!" Lavins exclaimed, "Those are them!" He peered closer. "Only mine didn't have the scratchs on the band here."

Holmes pulled the paper back and slipped it into his pocket. "Well, Mr. Lavins, I do think I can shed some light on the mysterious nature of your wife and the missing links." He took a piece of paper from the mantle and wrote something on it. "I shall call on you if I have any news tomorrow." He handed the slip of paper to me. "Here, Watson. If you'll be so kind as to sign this, the poor man will have a valid reason to be out. A doctor's note should convince your wife."

I signed the paper and handed it to the locksmith, who was beginning to display a rather nervous energy.

"Is something that matter?" I asked as I handed him the note.

"What do you think to find Mr. Holmes?" He inquired uneasily.

The detective frowned slightly. "Whatever there is to be found." He strode over to the door and opened it. "Now, I have no intentions of being rude, thought I must get to work. Good day Mr. Lavins."

Our now disgruntled guest stood, finished his tea, and gave us both a polite nod before exiting.

"Holmes wh-"

The detective held up a hand sharply. "Shh doctor!"

I held my silence and waiting for Holmes to start talking. Footsteps down the stairs were heard, along with the slamming of the front door. As soon as the noise faded, Holmes rushed into action.

"Quick! Doctor, grab your coat, hat and gloves. Something old; we might run into some trouble." He cried as he rushed into his rooms and came out, sans dressing gown, with what looked to be a false nose and a pair of glasses. I rapidly pulled on one of my coats that I saved for when Holmes and I went out for work, and tugged on my bowler. Holmes, in his top hat and long overcoat, coupled with his bird-like features and upright posture, was quite sinister.

"Hurry now Watson! We must follow him!"

"Let me finish this note to Mrs. Hudson. We can't let her be all alone with no notice."

"Very well! But we must get out there before his footprints disappear in the snow!"

I finished the note and we flew from our apartments. The wind nearly stopped us in our tracks, but we put our heads down and rammed through it.

'Holmes, there!" I yelled over the noise of the gusts. "His foot prints!"

The detective nodded and we took off after the man. It seemed as if Lavins was lost, as he changed directions quite a few times, and even broke off into two paths. One of the two paths was completely obliterated, and Holmes decided to follow the clearer prints.

"It appears, doctor," Holmes shouted at one particularly baffling alteration in direction, "That our prey was warned not to be followed."

"Indeed. But Holmes, what this?" I cried, "The foot prints simply stop here!"We had made it a dozen or so blocks before the tracks discontinued. "It's as if he took flight!"

My companion bent down and examined the prints, taking out a small measuring tool. He made a few rapid calculations, and stood.

"No, not flight my dear Watson. Merely backtracking."

"The split path! He walked backwards and went a different direction?"

"Precisely. Come, we must get back on the proper path!" We turned and made our way back to the second path. "Our prey is more informed in loosing a tail then I would have imagined. We may have taken on more of a case then it seems."

We followed the second path down allies and through the less savory parts of London for another twelve blocks when suddenly, we arrived at our destination. A modest house on our left as we exited an alley was the end of the prints. The detective and I crept up to the two-story home, picturesque, though slightly under kept, making a honest effort to keep to the footprints made earlier by our man. No lights were on, though a small shed-like structure was lit up from the inside behind the house. The foot prints bypassed the front door of the house entirely, and made their way to the shed at the back instead.

"I'll bet that's grandfather's old shop." Holmes said, pointing towards the building. "Let's go have a look around the house."

We made our way to the front door, and peered in the windows adjacent, Holmes on the right and I, on the left. Through my window I could see a small den containing a baby grand piano and a harp. The entire room was lined with shelves and books, though it seemed to me that a small layer of dust blanketed the whole room. Curiously, there was a fire burning in the corner fireplace.

"What do you see Watson?" Holmes called from his side.

"A den." I replied quietly. "Though I do perceive a layer of dust over everything Holmes. The only thing out of place is the fire."

'Fire?" My companion said, coming over to my side. "That's odd." The detective tapped his chin, pulling out the false nose and glasses. "Would you mind perhaps doing a small task doctor?"

"Not at all." I replied. "What do you need?"

"Here, put these on. I need you to pretend to be looking for a locksmith. Try and keep the lady in this room if possible."

"Lady? Holmes, I see no one."

"But she is here." He pointed to the top floor. "A light in the attic. That is no doubt where her study is."

"How do you know it is her and not him?"

"Simple, Watson. The prints lead to the smithy without first coming here, and they are perfect enough to suggest that he didn't come here first and walk backwards like before."

"Right. What will you be doing then?"

"I shall be out here. When the lady comes down, do your best to bring her in front of this window. When you hear something thrown against the door, you will know that it is your cue to leave the den."

"I understand thus far."

"Once you leave the den, try and bring her somewhere else in the house and get the window unlocked. I'll need to access that room. The second time something is thrown against the door is your signal to leave. Are my instruction clear?"

"Very clear."

He nodded. "Good. Now I will be around the corner of the house, so do not be alarmed if you do not see me." He gestured to the door. "Best get cracking."

I nodded and put on the nose and glasses, also switching my bowler for Holmes' top hat.

"There!" The detective laughed. "You look quite like an aristocrat Watson, if you don't mind me saying! Now go, before either of them come out and see us!"

I knocked loudly on the door with the knocker. The noise reverberated in the cold air, and I found myself longing for the fire I had seen after such a long walk. My jacket was caked in snow, as was Holmes' hat. The snow was even landing on the small frames of the glasses.

After a few moments passed, the lady opened the door. She was dressed in a simple gown, one that prevented much skin to be seen, and a knit shall. Though her dress matched that of a rather elderly lady, she was much young and radiant then her clothes suggested.

"Yes?" She asked coldly.

She had only opened the door a fraction, I suppose to keep heat in, and more likely then not, to keep me out.

"I've been told that a locksmith lives here." I invented. "I have dealings to be done with him, if this is his place."

"It is indeed." She replied stiffly. "I will go fetch him. Would you like to sit in the den? You must be cold, Sir!"

"That would be most appreciated." I replied with a slight bow. "I must say, you have a lovely home here!"

And indeed it was. There were candles burning on many surfaces, the shadows casting intricate patterns on the walls that weren't furnished with tapestries and paintings. Bouquets of dried flowers were bundled in vases on quaint end tables, releasing a subtle scent as we walked through.

'Why thank you." My host was warming up to me, and I felt a small pain of regret that I was deceiving her. The lady was quite lovely herself. Though petite and delicate, her eyes held a rather strong sense of character that many men found to be off putting, though I myself rather liked. She took minute steps with no small amount of grace. I completely understood why Mr. Lavins spoke with such infatuation when he was telling us of the woman. I certainly would have been attracted under different circumstances.

"Well, this is the den. There is brandy on the bar there, you may help yourself." She offered politely as we entered the room I had seen from the window. I thanked her and she turned to leave, without entering the room far enough that she could have been seen from the window.

"Wait! What's this?" I ejaculated.

The lady stopped and turned back to me, her pretty face clouded with confusion. "What's what Sir?"

I rushed over to the glass and placed both hands on the panes. "Locks like these ones on the window here! This is exactly what I need!" I invented, hoping my excited manner would draw Kate over to me.

Mrs. Lavins came over just as I wanted, standing beside me close enough that I could smell her perfume.

"Locks on the window? That's what you need?" She asked, surprised.

"Indeed! My servants keep unlocking a window in my study and no matter how much I tell them not never open it, it is always open after they leave!"

The lady gave a short, shaky laugh. "Well, that does seem to be quite the problem. Shall I go fetch my husband to see if he can help you?"

"Yes, please."

She smiled. "Very well. Do you want any brandy or tea before I go get him?"

There had been no thump on the door, so I assumed that Holmes needed more time. "Brandy would be lovely."

I stayed by the glass as she went to the cabinet and poured me some in a snifter. The snow had increased- perhaps that was why Holmes hadn't made the signal: he hadn't been able to see.

"Isn't the snow beautiful?" She asked as she handed me the snifter. I shifted over a bit so that she was in optimum position to been seen.

"Yes, indeed. It had been a long time indeed since London saw such lovely flakes."

We stood in silence for a moment as we watched the falling snow. It was a rather queer moment, as we both said nothing, us two strangers, and the only noise was that from the fire.

"I haven't played in the snow since I was young." She murmured wistfully. "Oh, how I'd love to do such a thing again!"

"Well, let us catch a few flakes from inside then." I offered, and opened the window to stick my hand out.

It was slightly after opening the pane that a loud thump sounded. It was without a doubt Holmes' signal. The lady jumped slightly, knocking my brandy onto my jacket and on my shoes.

"Oh no!" She gasped. "Sir, I am so sorry! That noise was simply so unexpected!"

"It's no problem my dear lady." I tried to sooth her nerves. 'It must have been a young rascal throwing a snowball, don't you think?"

"Yes, yes." She muttered. "Here, follow me and I shall get you a towel for your jacket."

The opportunity was perfect. I praised Holmes for his superior planning, and followed the lady out of the den, the window still open.

After cleaning up the brandy on my jacket and shoes, I waited in the kitchen for the lady to fetch her husband. I hoped Holmes was getting what he needed from the den, for I wasn't sure how much long I could hold up my pretenses. While I lingered in the kitchen, I snooped for anything out of the ordinary. But, after nearly ten minutes of searching, the only thing that I found curious was that lack of staff coming in or out of the room. Lavins had said his wife had dismissed one of the maids, but what about the rest of them?

"Pardon me for making you wait so long. You asked for a locksmith?" Lavins asked as he came in. The fellow's entrance strained my already on-edge nerves and I had to cough to cover my surprise.

"Oh, yes! I need locks for my windows, like the ones you have."

"Very well. I shall have to come over to your place to see what sort of windows I will be dealing with, but it should pose to much of a problem." The locksmith paused and peered closer. "Do I know you Sir?"

"I do not think we have met." I was starting to lose my cool slightly. I needed an escape. _Holmes,_ I thought to myself, _Hurry up!_

"If you insist." He gave a half-hearted smile. "Anything else Sir?"

"No, I do believe that was al I needed." I stalled. "How much do you predict it will cost?"

" I'm afraid I will have to give you prediction when I see how much work will need to be done. It will very on- What the devil was that?" He cried.

"More children throwing snowballs, I'd say." I said with relief.

"Children these days!" He tutted.

"Indeed." I concurred. "But, if you'll excuse me, I must be on my way. My wife is most likely sending out the police to look for me by now."

Lavins laughed uneasily. "Yes, I know that feeling."

"I shall call some time in the next few days, I should think. Thank you for your time."

He showed me out, and I walked off away from the alley Holmes and I had used. I crunched through the snow, hoping Holmes would find me in this blizzard.

"Doctor!" I heard the detective shout from behind me. "Doctor, this way!"

I turned back and follow the sound his voice. Holmes' flare for the dramatic certainly helped in this situation- he knew how to project his voice over great distanced.

"Watson, you are an actor in the making, I must say!" He cried when I had arrived by his side.

"Don't be silly Holmes. " I laughed, "You are a tenfold better than I! Did you get what you needed?"

"Yes. Now, let us forge a way back to Baker Street. This is a blizzard if I have ever seen one, and I'd hate to be lost in such a fierce storm!"

By the time we had gotten back to the rooms, it was past tea, and the two of us were sufficiently frozen. Mrs. Hudson, when she heard us come in, scolded us for going out in such weather, but nonetheless made us large, steaming cups of tea.

"I must say Watson, that was indeed the coldest of our adventures!" Holmes laughed.

We were both wrapped tightly in blankets and our chairs were as close to the fire as we could manage. Holmes had put his dressing gown on again as had I. A full on blizzard was raging outside of the wall of the apartments, and nothing could be seen from the windows.

"Let's hope it stays this way; any colder and I fear I could become a human icicle." I chuckled. "But, Holmes, what exactly did you find?"

"Ah," He smiled, his eyes gleaming, "I was counting down the time until you asked me that Watson. Do you remember clipping of the cuff links I showed you?"

"Yes, of course."

"Do you mind describing them for me?"

"Let's see… There were silver, with an emerald and sapphire set off center to the outside. There were a few marks on the bands, with an especially large scratch band of the left one."

"Good, good! I might make you into a detective yet Watson! Anything else?"

I thought, remember best I could the picture I had been shown. "No, I do believe that's all."

'Then, would you say, Watson, that these," He pulled two small objects from his pocket, "Are the cuff links from the picture?"

I gasped. In Holmes' hand, were similar links. "Holmes, my dear fellow! How did you get those? But those aren't the ones from the picture."

"They were in the fire place, hidden in the flue. And you are correct; they aren't. I shall address the matter of these fake links in a moment."

"But how did you know they were hidden there? "

"Because Mr. Lavins good as told me so. He mentioned that his wife told me that she didn't like it when someone put out the fire in the den after giving him the cuff links. Then, when he mentioned that they were gone, I deduced that she had hidden them in the chimney flue, and wanted it to stay burning so that no one would look up there and find them."

I shook my head. "It always seems so simple after you explain your methods Holmes." Then, a thought came to me. "But Holmes, why did you have to see Kate before going inside?"

"Very good Watson! I see you are beginning to realize there are methods to my madness.

"I needed to see Lady Kate first, because what she looked like depended on whether or not the cuff links would be in the flue. I was quite sure I knew who Lady Kate really was as Lavins was talking but I had to be positive before I would break into her home."

"What ever do you mean Holmes?" I demanded. 'How could her appearance change where she hid her things?"

Holmes laughed again and passed me the cover page of last week's Times. "Take a look at this Watson, and see if you can't deduce something from it."

I looked down at the page and knew immediately what Holmes wanted me to see. In big bold letters, blazoned across the front, it was written 'Charity Links Stolen'. I read further to discover that Lord Daniel Morrson was the one who had won the cuff links earlier in the year in a charity auction, but someone had pilfered them from his home. Holmes then passed me the cover page of today's Times. I scanned the page and found the second bit of information: 'Cuff Links Mailed to Scotland Yard'.

"Lord Daniel? Wasn't his home near the county home that Kate had visited?" I asked, "And how did Kate get the real ones?"

"I shall give you one more clue Watson." Holmes chuckled. "Try and use my methods, please. Everything you need is in these three articles."

He handed me a third paper, this time it was a picture of a young lady. The lady was dressed all in black, though she was wearing pants, a scarf over the lower half of her face and a long jacket. The picture looked as if it was taken without the subject's knowledge. Something in the lady's stance was familiar. I turned the photograph over and an article containing the lady's name: K. Donovann, 'The Unbolting Woman'. According to the information of the back of the picture, she had involved with over ten thievery crimes to date, though her involvement couldn't be sufficiently proven to the police. She was called The Unbolting Woman for her skill with getting past whatever locks were put in her way.

"Holmes, who is this-" Suddenly, it dawned on me. The woman in the photograph was Kate Lavins. "Kate is The Unbolting Woman?"

"Well done! What else do you know?"

"She stole the cuff links from Lord Morrson, and then gave them to her husband?"

"Yes Watson!" Holmes applauded me, "Anything else?"

"Not that I can find." I shrugged.

"Shall I tell you everything then?"

"Please. There are still some details that have no relation in my mind."

"That is to be expected. Let's start at the beginning, shall we?

"Now, Kate Donovann, or The Unbolt Woman, made a rather high-risk steal last year, stealing a diamond out of one of the Queen's own cargo ships, and she had left enough evidence for the police to apprehend her. So, she had to choose between Scotland Yard, or stop thieving, especially with all the other cases she has been suspected to be involved in. Kate chose stop thieving, and faked her own death, wanting to start again. Our friends at Scotland Yard, being the buffoons they are, were convinced by her fake death, and stopped searching for her.

"To secure a life, she decided that she would get married and to never thieve again. But, when she saw those cuff links, she couldn't resist. She started to court Lavins because of his skills as a locksmith, and for a dowry, she asked for the workshop so she could fix and create more lock picks. She took up work as a governess, making sure that the family she would be working for had a home near the location of the cuff links. The fake ones were made by her as to replace the fake ones with when she stole the real ones. When the family went away, she broke into Lord Daniel's home, stole the cuff links, mailed the ones she had made to Scotland Yard. Or so she thought.

"When she came back home, she was very suspicious because she knew if anyone found the real ones, or the molds or plans to make the fake ones, she would be apprehended and all her work for naught. She wrapped up the links and gave them to her husband for Christmas. But, when he opened them, she noticed that they weren't, in fact, the real ones. She had accidentally mailed the real ones to Scotland Yard and had kept the fake ones!"

"Which is why she was so upset when Lavins opened his gift!" I gasped.

"Indeed. After she realized her mistake, she hid the fake ones from her husband…"

"…And he came to us today asking for our help in finding them." I finished. "But why was Lavins acting so wary when he was leaving this morning?"

Holmes shrugged. "He most likely didn't want us to know about his side business of making lock picks."

"My dear Holmes!" I ejaculated. "Why would you say that?"

"I had a look into his workshop. His lock picks were the reason he and Kate met."

"Well, Holmes, I must saw, I am impressed." I finished off the last of my tea. "What to do now though. It won't cause any harm in letting her keep the fake ones. The only reason why she stole them was to give them as a gift to her husband."

"Quite true Doctor, but who knows what else she may try and steal? Now, if you don't mind, I will much like to go back to relaxing."

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><p>The next day, the front page of the Times was emblazoned with 'The Unbolting Woman Caught And Missing Links Mystery Solved!"<p>

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><p><strong>So what did you think? Like or hate, please review and rate!<strong>


	2. Second edit

**Here's a second version of the same story. I edited a lot, so it's pretty different in some parts. If you wanna great it, great! If not, that's cool too. **

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><p><strong>-The Missing Links-<strong>

It was a few days after Christmas, a time when Holmes and I were relaxing before the inevitable rush of business that would come in the next week, when Mr. Jonathan Lavins came to our chambers at 221B Baker Street. It was a frozen, blustery day, when the crowds dared not to venture out into the streets of London. The snow floated down from the heavy clouds that covered our view of the sun, and it was the sort of snow that would merely sit upon your jacket and hat until you returned indoors, where the snow would immediately melt, soaking everything from your boots to your hair. So blustery and frigid was the day that Holmes hadn't changed out of his dressing gown, though it was about noon, and the two of us sat in our chairs, smoking and reading the Times. There had been neither a word nor a sound, barring the usual ruffles of a turning page or a cough, from either of us for some time, when Holmes suddenly broke free from the mold we had been imprisoned in by speaking.

"Watson, would you mind getting the door?" He asked, his voice muffled from behind the paper, "I do believe the bell will go soon."

I looked up from my paper in surprise. "Why Holmes," I declared, "I had thought it was your intention to remain in your chair the whole day."

"It was Watson." He sighed, smoke curling around in him a fog, "But someone had disrupted those plans. And he seems quite desperate. It would be a cruel thing to turn him away." Holmes moved the paper away from his face as he sipped his tea. "They seem be rather conflicted; they have been pacing back and forth for nearly five minutes now, moving in and out of my peripheral vision. It has been quite bothersome."

I threw a glance out the window and saw that what Holmes had been saying was true. A white-haired man was pacing outside our door shivering in the brisk flurry that swept thought the streets. His footsteps carved a track in the snow that was cover shortly after being made. Finally, he came in front of the door and rang the bell.

"There, Watson, you see?" Holmes gestured a hand at me, motioning me from the room. "If you don't mind, I'm quite in the middle of a most interesting article on the a disappearance of a noble woman."

I exited our rooms, kicking aside books and paper, and descended the stairs to the front entrance. Mrs. Hudson had come down with a rather persistent cold, and though she did still cook for us, I had insisted that she rest as much as possible, which meant that Holmes and I were left to our own devices for things like opening the door, as well as cleaning the rooms. I had always respected Holmes' eccentric organization, but our rooms were an absolute mess at the moment.

Upon releasing the bolt on the door, the man all but fell into the hall, the open door letting the snow stream in. I slammed the door against the frozen barrage and turned around to the man collapsing into the banister in an icy heap.

"Sir!" I cried, rushing to him. His lips were nearing blue and he had nothing to cover his hands, of which the tips of the fingers, like his ears, were beginning to turn white. Mild frostbite was sure to have set in, and though not all of the affects were reversible at this point, if I got him up to the fire, he would be able to keep his affected bits. Holmes, who had heard my shouts, raced down to my level and helped me maneuver the poor fellow to our rooms. He was promptly placed in the chair close to the fire, and a blanket was provided. Mrs. Hudson, who had also heard the commotion, broke her duties to her health and came to see what was the matter. She gasped when she saw the man and rushed to the kitchen to make some tea.

"Are you alright my good fellow?" I asked, once the fuss had calmed. Though the man was still shivering, the fire and blanket were undoubtedly helping and his coming tea should have brought his body temperature back to respectable levels. He was looking around the room, rather astonished at the mess, I was sure. It also could have been the coats that were hung up in the grandfather clock that shock him.

'Yes, yes." He insisted in a light, nervous voice, still perring about the chambers. "I thank you for this warmth. I do not know how much further I really could have gone."

"That was to be my next question!" I cried. "How could you have left your house without dressing properly for the cold?"

"He had to leave before his wife returned." Holmes interjected. The detective had gone back to his chair and reading after helping me. "She didn't want him out of the house."

The man stopped shivering momentarily to gape at my companion. "That's correct sir. I am to suppose then, that you are Sherlock Holmes, the consulting detective?"

"You suppose correctly." Holmes nodded from behind his paper.

"But how did you know that my wife didn't want me out of the house?" he queried.

"I will tell you as soon as Mrs. Hudson delivers your tea." The detective paused, and a knock on the door filled the momentary silence.

"Tea, for the guest Sir." Mrs. Hudson said as she entered our rooms. "Will there be anything else?"

"No, that will be all." I gently patted her arm. "Now, please, go back and rest."

Our landlady nodded and left. I heard her coughs as she descended the stairs.

"Now, please Mr. Holmes." Our guest begged. "Tell me how you knew." He had taken out his pocket watch and was examining the hour. "I have little time left…"

"…Before your wife returns from her outing, yes I understand." Finished my roommate.

That set off another pause in which the man was staring silently at the consulting detective. His tea was steaming, untouched in his hand, the moisture of the steam condensing on his wire-frame glasses. The pocket watch was forgotten, dangling from his long, crooked fingers. The snow in his hair had melted, transforming the previously white hair to his natural shade of black. His damp hair flopped across his fore head, and the melted water dripped of the end of his nose. All in all, he looked the part of a street beggar, albeit a well-dressed one. It would have been a witty scene to be watching, if only I hadn't been so stupefied myself.

There were times that the reactions of the citizens that came for the help of the detective were quite comical, but those times were only when I myself could, using the methods Holmes always applied, figure out how Holmes had made his deductions. This was not one of those times, and I too was left with a similar reaction of surprise and shock. The detective's head was still buried deep in his copy of _The Times, _and hadn't moved, nor looked up, since the fellow had been carried in.

"Your name is Jonathan Lavins. It says so on the collar of your coat, which I noticed as I was helping the doctor here carry you. I also noticed, in that instant, that you are married, not so long ago, to a charming young woman named Katherine." Holmes set about folding up his paper, continuing to speak calmly, as if these facts were written clearly across the man's forehead. "Her name is written on the inner part of the wedding ring on your left finger. The ring is not at all scratched, which allows me to deduce that the marriage was recently sealed." Holmes held up a small gold band, then tossed it to our stupefied guest. "The ring must have slipped off your finger while my college and I were assisting you up the steps." Lavins mutely put the ring back on his finger, his eyes as wide as saucers. "Your wife works for a watchmaker, her father, which is how you got the rather fancy pocket watch in your hand. It was a wedding gift, from her brother. I saw an inscription on the inner cover of the watch in the reflection of your glasses." Holmes stopped as he put the dailies, properly folded, back on the table and took a long drag from his pipe. "Anything else?"

"I think not." Lavins sputtered, with a touch or alarm. "How on earth did you notice such minute details so quickly?"

The detective shrugged his slight shoulders and clasped his hands together. "It is my business to know what others do not. How else would I find such details if I were not to notice them?"

"Yes, yes," Lavins mumbled shakily, "Of course. How silly of me." He wasn't the first to frightened by Holmes' abilities. Some when so far as to call him a 'Devil worshiper', and that Holmes had 'made a pact with Satan.' Those were all ridiculous notions, of course, but Holmes didn't bother to put his foot down for the rumors to be stopped.

There was a pause. Lavins, his regard fixed on the snow outside, appeared to be frightened into silence.

"Now, are you going to tell me the rest of your story?" Holmes inquired coldly after a moment. The detective was more than happy to exhibit his skills, but not without a purpose. The tall, thin man stood and, hands clasped behind his back, looked out the window that was behind his chair. "I'm afraid that the exact nature of your problems is beyond even what I can deduce."

The sudden cold manner of which he was suddenly being treated shocked Lavins slightly, and the man sat up straighter in his chair and began his narrative.

"Yes, you gave some basics of my life. My wife's name is indeed Katherine, and we were married some three months ago. The engagement wasn't long, though it was her who wanted to be married. She also insisted that the dowry wasn't a large sum of money, nor an expensive house. But, I need not bore you with-"

"What did she want then Mr. Lavins?" Holmes interrupted briskly.

Our guest frowned at the detective's back. The poor fellow seemed to be at the end of his patience. I must admit, I would have been too; Holmes certainly was getting down to his work with this chap. It was quite understandable though- the detective's holiday had been interrupted.

"She wanted the old workshop that belonged to my grandfather. He was a blacksmith before he died. It had fallen to a rather sad state from lack of use, for my father was-"

"He was a train conductor, and you are a locksmith, yes." Holmes interjected. "Please continue."

"My wife works as a governess with a local family, and at the end of November, she had asked me if I wouldn't mind her going on a trip to the country home with the family of the boy she looks after. She and the family are rather close, so I readily agreed. She was gone for a fortnight with the family." Lavins explained through sips of his tea.

"Where is this home?" Holmes asked sharply.

The man shook his head. "I was never informed as to its exact location, but I know that it's very close to a North Rail station. I do believe it's neighboring Lord Daniel Morrson's country home though, as I had gotten letters from Kate while she was gone and one of them spoke of Lady Morrson and her sons."

"Thank you." Holmes murmured, taking a tin of tobacco from his slippers by the fireplace and refilled his pipe with the blend he always saved for mysteries. He then started to pace in the room beside the window; two sure signs that were was more to this mystery then it might first have appeared.

"Well, when she returned, her mannerisms had changed. Before the trip, and for the entire time I had known her, she had possessed a very calm temperament, and would rarely raise her voice." The affection for his wife was clear as day in the fellow's words. "But after this little trip, she started to be very short with everyone. You couldn't make a single comment without fear of her retaliation. And she detested when I brought home a friend from work without informing her first, or when someone went into her study. She even fired one of the maids for trying to unlock the door of the study to clean the place! This little trip will cost me dearly if she returns home before I do."

The locksmith had gotten very animated with his descriptions of the goings-on, punctuating all of his points with a sweeping arm gesture. I admit I was enamored with his style of speaking; if he ever needed to give up his profession as a locksmith, he most certainly could make his living of telling stories. Enthralled as I was- leaning forward on my chair and hanging off the fellow's every word- I hadn't noticed that Holmes had stopped pacing and was glaring at the story-teller.

"Then you'd best start your story sir." Holmes declared coldly. "From the beginning, please."

Lavins quickly threw up his hands defensively and shook his head. "Yes, yes- pardon me. Right, I shall get started.

"You see, last Thursday, I was looking for a book in Kate's study when I came across a pair of cuff links hidden in a flase book- the pages had been cut to fit the links between the covers of the book, you see. They appeared to be most expensive- they had a sapphire and emerald in them each, and made out of pure silver- I thought it might be my gift for the holidays. But as I was examining the jewelry, Kate entered and saw what I was looking at. She had the most queer reaction." At this, Holmes snapped his attention to the man, and locked his intensive detective's regard on the locksmith. "She blanched whiter then I had ever seen anyone and nearly fainted. I figured she was so astonished that I found her hiding place for my Christmas present. I had her retire to bed for the rest of the day, but she was ill the next day as well- I thought that she was coming down with the horrible flu that is going around- the same one your landlady has, perhaps. Her queerness started up again as well the day after; she simply refused to let the fire in the den be put out, and had become suspicious again. Christmas evening, Kate and I were to visit one of our old friends, and I planned on wearing the cuff links, once I had opened them as a gift. Only, I didn't receive them as a gift. And when I asked Kate about them she said-"

"'I know nothing about them.'" Holmes finished grimly.

"Yes!" Lavins cried. She says I must have dreamed them, that there were never any cuff links! But I know they were real." His face was creased with worry and despair as he pleaded to the detective. "You must believe me Mr. Holmes!"

"I do, sir," my companion murmured, and stopped pacing to face his client. "And I understand your narrative perfectly." He pulled his pipe from his mouth, and tapped the end of it on his chin. "Yet I have not quite discovered the point of your life-threatening journey to me. What, exactly," Holmes demanded, " Do you want me to find?"

"Oh. Yes." Lavins tittered. The poor chap was a jumble of nerves. I was a tad anxious myself- Holmes wasn't being very cordial with his client today! "I am here to ask you to survey my wife for a few days, or even a few hours. She has been going out of the house lately, and I don't know where she goes. If you could-"

"Mr. Lavins." Holmes warned callously, "I will do nothing for you marriage troubles." He placed his pipe back in his mouth. "If that is all you are here for, then please, be on your way."

Lavins deflated, all his enthusiasm done, destroyed by my friend. I felt a bit of embarrassment for the fellow- he had come all this way, risking his life, to speak with the detective, who was now just turning him away. I felt a desire to help the locksmith, even if it was to ease my own guilt of being useless in the solution to his problems.

"Please, Mr. Holmes-" Lavins began to beg.

"But," Holmes interrupted, "I will find those cuff links, if you'll pay."

Lavsin nodded eagerly. "I have some money currently on my person, though it is not a large sum."

"We shall discuss the sum later." Holmes waved away the man's coin purse. "For now, though, could you take a look at something?" The detective turned to his drawer of Persons of Interest. He flipped through some papers for a few moments, muttering to himself. Finally, he pulled a single newspaper clipping out. "There it is!" He nodded, a fierce look in his eyes, and turned back to his client. "Now, Mr. Lavins, do these resemble the ones you found?"

Lavins and I both leaned closer to the old worn paper. There were no colours, but the differences between the two stones were clear. It was a picture of a pair of cuff links under the heading of 'Famous French Prince's Cuff Links Auctioned Off For Charity'. The clipping was dated from mid-August.

'Yes!" Lavins exclaimed, "Those are them!"

Holmes pulled the paper back and slipped it into his pocket. "Well, Mr. Lavins, I do think I can shed some light on the missing links." He took a piece of paper from the mantle and wrote something on it. "I shall call on you if I have any news tomorrow." He handed the slip of paper to me. "Here, Watson. If you'll be so kind as to sign this, the poor man will have a valid reason to be out. A doctor's note should convince your wife."

I signed the paper and handed it to the locksmith, who was beginning to display a perspire. I felt a sedative was needed for the man, and quite soon.

"Is something that matter?" I asked as I handed him the note.

"What do you think happened to them Mr. Holmes?" He inquired uneasily.

The detective frowned slightly. "We shall discuss that tomorrow." He strode over to the door and opened it. "Now, I have no intentions of being rude, but I must return to my work. Good day Mr. Lavins."

Our now disgruntled guest stood, finished his tea, and gave us both a polite nod before exiting, his regard now suspicious and untrusting.

"Holmes wh-"

The detective held up a hand sharply. "Shh doctor!" He clacked the door shut and stood in the middle of the room with his hand raised.

I held my silence and waiting for Holmes to start talking. Footsteps down the stairs were heard, along with the slamming of the front door and a short flurry of wind. As soon as the noise faded, Holmes rushed into action.

"Quick! Doctor, grab your coat, hat and gloves. Something old; we might run into some trouble." He shouted as he rushed into his rooms and came out, sans dressing gown, with what looked to be a false nose and a pair of glasses. I rapidly pulled on one of my coats that I saved for when Holmes and I went out for work, and tugged on my bowler. Holmes, in his top hat and long overcoat, coupled with his bird-like features and upright posture, was quite sinister.

"Hurry now Watson! We must follow him!" Holmes ejaculated.

"Let me finish this note to Mrs. Hudson. We can't let her be all alone with no notice."

"Very well! But we must get out there before his footprints disappear in the snow!"

I finished the note and we flew from our apartments. The wind nearly stopped us in our tracks, but we put our heads down and rammed through it, though there was less snow floating down. It was as if Dante's Ninth Circle of Hell had come to life in London- everything was frozen over and it was silent, save for the wind. I felt as if Holmes and I were the only two people left alive, but Lavin's footprints told me otherwise.

'Holmes, there!" I yelled over the noise of the gusts. "His footprints!"

The detective nodded and we took off after the man. It seemed as if Lavins was lost, as he changed directions quite a few times, and even broke off into two paths. One of the two paths was completely obliterated, the direction muddled, and Holmes decided to follow the clearer prints.

"It appears, doctor," Holmes shouted at one particularly baffling alteration in direction, "That our prey was warned not to be followed."

"Indeed. But Holmes, what this?" I cried, "The foot prints simply stop here!" We had made it six or so blocks before the tracks discontinued. "It's as if he took flight!"

My companion bent down and examined the prints, taking out a small measuring tool. He made a few rapid calculations, and stood.

"No, not flight my dear Watson. Merely backtracking."

"The split path! He walked backwards and went a different direction?"

"Precisely. Come, we must get back on the proper path!" We turned and made our way back to the second path. "Our prey is more informed in loosing a tail then I would have imagined. We may have taken on more of a case then it seems."

We followed the second path down alleys and through the less savory parts of London for another half a dozen blocks when suddenly we arrived at our destination. A modest house on our left as we exited an alley was the end of the prints. The detective and I crept up to the two-story home, picturesque, though slightly under kept, making a honest effort to keep to the footprints made earlier by our man. No lights were on, though a small shed-like structure was lit up from the inside behind the house. The foot prints bypassed the front door of the house entirely, and made their way to the shed at the back instead.

"I'll bet that's grandfather's old shop." Holmes said, pointing towards the building. "Let's go have a look around the house."

We made our way to the front door, and peered in the windows adjacent Holmes on the right, and I on the left. Through my window I could see a small den containing a baby grand piano and a harp. The entire room was lined with shelves and books, though it seemed to me that a small layer of dust blanketed the whole room. Curiously, there was a fire burning in the corner fireplace.

"What do you see Watson?" Holmes called from his side.

"A den." I replied quietly. "Though I do perceive a layer of dust over everything Holmes. The only thing out of place is the fire."

"Fire?" My companion said, coming over to my side. "That's odd." The detective tapped his chin, pulling out the false nose and glasses. "Would you mind perhaps doing a small task doctor?"

"Not at all." I replied. "What do you need?"

"Here, put these on. I need you to pretend to be looking for a locksmith. Try and keep the lady in this room if possible."

"Lady? Holmes, I see no one."

"But she is here." He pointed to the top floor. "A light in the attic. That is no doubt where her study is."

"How do you know it is her and not him?"

"Simple, Watson. The prints lead to the smithy without first coming here, and they are perfect enough to suggest that he didn't come here first and walk backwards like before."

"Right. What will you be doing then?"

"I shall be out here. When the lady comes down, do your best to bring her in front of this window. When you hear something thrown against the door, you will know that it is your cue to leave the den."

"I understand thus far."

"Once you leave the den, try and bring her somewhere else in the house and get the window unlocked. I'll need to access that room. The second time something is thrown against the door is your signal to leave. Are my instructions clear?"

"Very clear."

He nodded. "Good. Now I will be around the corner of the house, so do not be alarmed if you do not see me." He gestured to the door. "Best get cracking."

I nodded and put on the nose and glasses, also switching my bowler for Holmes' top hat.

"There!" The detective laughed. "You look quite like an aristocrat Watson, if you don't mind me saying! Now go, before either of them come out and see us!"

I knocked loudly on the door with the knocker. The noise reverberated in the cold air, and I found myself longing for the fire I had seen after such a long walk. My jacket was caked in snow, as was Holmes' hat. The snow was even landing on the small frames of the glasses.

After a few moments passed, the lady opened the door. She was dressed in a simple gown, one that prevented much skin to be seen, and a knit shawl. Though her dress matched that of a rather elderly lady, she was much younger and more radiant then her clothes suggested.

"Yes?" She asked coldly.

She had only opened the door a fraction, I suppose to keep heat in, and more likely then not, to keep me out.

"I've been told that a locksmith lives here." I invented. "I have dealings to be done with him, if this is his place."

"It is indeed." She replied stiffly. "I will go fetch him. Would you like to sit in the den? You must be cold, Sir!"

"That would be most appreciated." I replied with a slight bow. "I must say, you have a lovely home here!"

And indeed it was. There were candles burning on many surfaces, the shadows casting intricate patterns on the walls that weren't furnished with tapestries and paintings. Bouquets of dried flowers were bundled in vases on quaint end tables, releasing a subtle scent as we walked through. But under all the décor, the home seemed to be falling apart- a crack peaking out from a tapestry, paint peeling in the corners of the walls.

'Why thank you." My host was warming up to me, and I felt a small pain of regret that I was deceiving her. The lady was quite lovely herself. Though petite and delicate, her eyes held a rather strong sense of character that many men found to be off putting, though I myself rather liked. She took minute steps with no small amount of grace. I completely understood why Mr. Lavins spoke with such infatuation when he was telling us of the woman. I certainly would have been attracted under different circumstances.

"Well, this is the den. There is brandy on the bar there, you may help yourself." She offered politely as we entered the room I had seen from the window. I thanked her and she turned to leave, without entering the room far enough that she could have been seen from the window.

"Wait! What's this?" I ejaculated.

The lady stopped and turned back to me, her pretty face clouded with confusion. "What's what Sir?"

I rushed over to the glass and placed both hands on the panes. "Locks like these ones on the window here! This is exactly what I need!" I invented, hoping my excited manner would draw Kate over to me.

Mrs. Lavins came over just as I wanted, standing beside me close enough that I could smell her perfume.

"Locks on the window? That's what you need?" She asked, surprised.

"Indeed! My servants keep unlocking a window in my study and no matter how much I tell them not never open it, it is always open after they leave!"

The lady gave a short, shaky laugh. "Well, that does seem to be quite the problem. Shall I go fetch my husband to see if he can help you?"

"Yes, please."

She smiled. "Very well. Do you want any brandy or tea before I go get him?"

There had been no thump on the door, so I assumed that Holmes needed more time. "Brandy would be lovely."

I stayed by the glass as she went to the cabinet and poured me some in a snifter. The snow had increased- perhaps that was why Holmes hadn't made the signal: he hadn't been able to see.

"Isn't the snow beautiful?" She asked as she handed me the snifter. I shifted over a bit so that she was in optimum position to been seen.

"Yes, indeed. It had been a long time indeed since London saw such lovely flakes."

We stood in silence for a moment as we watched the falling snow. It was a rather queer moment, as we both said nothing, us two strangers, and the only noise was that from the fire.

"I haven't played in the snow since I was young." She murmured wistfully. "Oh, how I'd love to do such a thing again!"

"Well, let us catch a few flakes from inside then." I offered, and opened the window to stick my hand out.

It was slightly after opening the pane that a loud thump sounded. It was without a doubt Holmes' signal. The lady jumped slightly, knocking my brandy onto my jacket and on my shoes.

"Oh no!" She gasped. "Sir, I am so sorry! That noise was simply so unexpected!"

"It's no problem my dear lady." I tried to sooth her nerves. 'It must have been a young rascal throwing a snowball, don't you think?"

"Yes, yes." She muttered. "Here, follow me and I shall get you a towel for your jacket. Leave the window open though; the fire is making it quite warm in here, isn't it?"

The opportunity was perfect. I mentally praised Holmes for his superior planning, and followed the lady out of the den, the window still open.

After cleaning up the brandy on my jacket and shoes, I waited in the kitchen for the lady to fetch her husband. I hoped Holmes was getting what he needed from the den, for I wasn't sure how much long I could hold up my pretenses. While I lingered in the kitchen, I snooped for anything out of the ordinary. But, after nearly ten minutes of searching, the only thing that I found curious was that lack of staff coming in or out of the room. Lavins had said his wife had dismissed one of the maids, but what about the rest of them?

"Pardon me for making you wait so long. You asked for a locksmith?" Lavins asked as he came in. The fellow's entrance strained my already on-edge nerves and I had to cough to cover my surprise.

"Oh, yes! I need locks for my windows, like the ones you have."

"Very well. I shall have to come over to your place to see what sort of windows I will be dealing with, but it should pose to much of a problem." The locksmith paused and peered closer. "Do I know you Sir?"

"I do not think we have met." I was starting to lose my cool slightly. I needed an escape. _Holmes,_ I thought to myself, _Hurry up!_

"If you insist." He gave a half-hearted smile. "Anything else Sir?"

"No, I do believe that was al I needed." I stalled. "How much do you predict it will cost?"

" I'm afraid I will have to give you prediction when I see how much work will need to be done. It will very on- What the devil was that?" He cried at a loud thump that had sounded.

"More children throwing snowballs, I'd say." I said with relief.

"Children these days!" He tutted.

"Indeed." I concurred. "But, if you'll excuse me, I must be on my way. My wife is most likely sending out the police to look for me by now."

Lavins laughed uneasily. "Yes, I know that feeling."

"I shall call some time in the next few days, I should think. Thank you for your time."

He showed me out, and I walked off away from the alley Holmes and I had used. I crunched through the snow, hoping Holmes would find me in this blizzard; the size and frequency of the frozen precipitation had doubled.

"Doctor!" I heard the detective shout from behind me. "Doctor, this way!"

I turned back and follow the sound his voice. Holmes' flare for the dramatic, and talent on stage, certainly helped in this situation- he knew how to project his voice over great distanced.

"Watson, you are an actor in the making, I must say!" He cried when I had arrived by his side.

"Don't be silly Holmes. " I laughed, "You are a tenfold better than I! Did you get what you needed?"

"Yes. Now, let us forge our way back to Baker Street. This is a blizzard if I have ever seen one, and I'd hate to be lost in such a fierce storm!"

By the time we had gotten back to the rooms, it was past tea, and the two of us were sufficiently frozen. Mrs. Hudson, when she heard us come in, scolded us for going out in such weather, but nonetheless made us large, steaming cups of tea.

"I must say Watson, that was indeed the coldest of our adventures!" Holmes laughed.

We were both wrapped tightly in blankets and our chairs were as close to the fire as we could manage. Holmes had put his dressing gown on again as had I. A full on blizzard was raging outside of the wall of the apartments, and nothing could be seen from the windows. The house itself creaking in the hurricane fore winds.

"Let's hope it stays this way; any colder and I fear I could become a human icicle." I chuckled. "But, Holmes, what exactly did you find?"

"Ah," He smiled, his eyes gleaming, "I was counting down the time until you asked me that Watson. Do you remember the clipping of the cuff links I showed you?"

"Yes, of course."

"Do you mind describing them for me?"

"Let's see… They were silver, with an emerald and sapphire set off center to the outside. There were a few marks on the bands, with an especially large scratch band of the left one."

"Good, good! I might make you into a detective yet Watson! Anything else?"

I thought, remembering best I could the picture that I had been shown. "No, I do believe that's all."

"Then, would you say, Watson, that these," He pulled two small objects from his pocket, "Are the cuff links from the picture?"

I gasped. In Holmes' hand, were the links. "Holmes, my dear fellow! How did you get those?"

"They were in the fire place, hidden in the flue."

"But how did you know they were hidden there? "

"Because Mr. Lavins good as told me so. He mentioned that his wife told me that she didn't like it when someone put out the fire in the den after he found the links. Then, when he mentioned that she pretended they didn't exist, I deduced that she had hidden them in the chimney flue, and wanted it to stay burning so that no one would look up there and find them."

I shook my head. "It always seems so simple after you explain your methods Holmes." Then, a thought came to me. "But Holmes, why did you have to see Kate before going inside?"

"Very good Watson! I see you are beginning to realize there are methods to my madness.

"I needed to see Lady Kate first, because what she looked like depended on whether or not the cuff links would be in the flue. I was quite sure I knew who Lady Kate really was as Lavins was talking but I had to be positive before I would break into her home."

"What ever do you mean Holmes?" I demanded. 'How could her appearance change where she hid her things?"

Holmes laughed again and passed me the cover page of last week's Times. "Take a look at this Watson, and see if you can't deduce something from it."

I looked down at the page and knew immediately what Holmes wanted me to see. In big bold letters, blazoned across the front, it was written 'Charity Links Stolen'. I read further to discover that Lord Daniel Morrson was the one who had won the cuff links earlier in the year in a charity auction, but someone had pilfered them from his home.

"Lord Daniel? Wasn't his home near the county home that Kate had visited?" I asked, "But how did Kate get them?"

"Very good Watson, but please." Holmes chuckled. "Try and use my methods, please. Everything you need is in these two articles."

He handed me a second paper, this time it was a picture of a young lady. The lady was dressed all in black, though she was wearing pants, a scarf over the lower half of her face and a long jacket. The picture looked as if it was taken without the subject's knowledge. Something in the lady's stance was familiar. Her regard was strong and full of defiance. I turned the photograph over and an article containing the lady's name: K. Donovann, 'The Unbolting Woman'. According to the information of the back of the picture, she had involved with over ten theft crimes to date, though her involvement couldn't be sufficiently proven to the police. She was called The Unbolting Woman for her skill with getting past whatever locks were put in her way.

"Holmes, who is this-" Suddenly, it dawned on me. The woman in the photograph was Kate Lavins. "Kate is The Unbolting Woman?"

"Well done! What else do you know?"

"She stole the cuff links from Lord Morrson, and then hid them in her home, where her husband found them?"

"Yes Watson!" Holmes applauded me, "Anything else?"

"Not that I can find." I shrugged.

"Shall I tell you everything then?"

"Please. There are still some details that have no relation in my mind."

"That is to be expected. Let's start at the beginning, shall we?

"Now, Kate Donovann, or The Unbolting Woman, made a rather high-risk theft last year, stealing a diamond out of one of the Queen's own cargo ships, and she had left enough evidence for the police to apprehend her. So, she had to choose between Scotland Yard, or stop stealing, especially with all the other cases she has been suspected to be involved in. Kate chose to stop thieving, and faked her own death, wanting to start again. Our friends at Scotland Yard, being the buffoons they are, were convinced by her fake death, and stopped searching for her.

"To secure a life, she decided that she would get married and would never thieve again. But, when she saw those cuff links, she couldn't resist. She started to court Lavins because of his skills as a locksmith, and for a dowry, she asked for the workshop so she could fix and create more lock picks. She took up work as a governess, making sure that the family she would be working for had a home near the location of the cuff links. When the family went away, she broke into Lord Daniel's home, stole the cuff links, and hid them.

"When she came back home, she was very suspicious because she knew if anyone found the real ones, she would be apprehended and all her work for naught. She had been trying to get someone to buy them off of her; those were the journeys she took that her husband was despairing over. You noticed how that house was getting run down, I'm sure; she was trying to make some money for repairs, most likely."

"Perhaps that was why she reacted so badly to him finding the links- she didn't want her husband to know that they were loosing money, omitting the fact that she feared he would turn her in, of course." I mused aloud.

"Oh, I doubt that last bit, Watson." Holmes chuckled, "But to continue the story, she pretended the event never happened, and re-hid her treasure form Lavins."

"…And he came to us today asking for our help in finding them." I finished. "But why was Lavins acting so wary when he was leaving this morning?"

Holmes shrugged. "He most likely didn't want us to know about his side business of making lock picks."

"My dear Holmes!" I ejaculated. "Why would you say that?"

"I had a look into his workshop. His lock picks were the reason he and Kate met. Though I'd imagine he would have never guessed Kate would have gone back to thieving."

"Well, Holmes, I must saw, I am impressed." I finished off the last of my tea. "What to do now though? Can we even prove it was Kate, now that you have the links yourself?"

"Quite true Doctor, but I believe she will confess if I tell her and Lavins the whole story. Now, if you don't mind, I will much like to go back to relaxing."

The next day, the front page of the Times was emblazoned with 'The Unbolting Woman Caught And Missing Links Mystery Solved!"

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><p><strong>So how were the edits? Tell me what you think, please! And the random number, if there were any, were page numbers. They got transferred over from the Word document, apparently. <strong>


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